


Work In Progress

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: Tom Petty (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Makeup, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'Tom Petty And reader where the reader and him had broken up and he comes over to apologize and make things better?'Sure can do!





	Work In Progress

_Ding-dong_.

“Coming!” you shout, and push yourself up from the table, abandoning your current project where it lies. You have been staring at it in bleary-eyed distraction for two hours now; you could use a break.

Your tiredness proves to be your undoing; you sigh, and mop your forehead, instead of looking through the peephole, and so do not check.

“I’m sorry, I was just-”

Your breath catches in your chest, and your eyes go round; for a moment, you consider slamming the door, but Tom smiles awkwardly at you.

“Hey, honey,” he says, and you stare at him for another moment.

“Why are you here?” you ask, and then remember your manners. “Uh… hey.”

“I’m sorry to just… uh, turn up like this.” You nod. “May… may I come in?”

“No,” you say, flatly, and although his smile doesn’t falter, his eyes turn a shade bluer. “I’m sorry, Tom, now isn’t a good time…”

“That’s okay. I just… uh… wanted to come and check how you are, is all.” He looks at his feet, and then brings his hand around from behind his back; he is holding a bouquet of lilies, and you take them before you can even tell yourself not to. “I… uh… didn’t want it to end on a bad note, you know?”

“Th-thank you.” You swallow nervously, and then look up at him. “…uh…” You step back. “Uh… you might as well come in, then.”

“Only if you want me to.” You inhale - you aren’t sure you do, but you step aside, and he steps past you into the hallway.

“Are you sure I’m not interrupting, honey?”

“I’m sure, _Tom_ ,” you say, voice sterner than you intended. “Uh… sit in the kitchen.” _He knows where it is_. Your stomach hurts. “I’ll get a drink…” He makes his way in - you watch how he moves, and feel a powerful lump in your throat, but you keep it in, and follow him. “I was just…”

“I’m sorry. Really, if I’m intruding…”

He looks so earnest - you know that face. You know how he looks when he lies, that twisted, pained expression, and this isn’t it. You shake your head, and he sits down; you lay the flowers across the draining board to deal with later, and lean back against the sink.

“So… are you okay?” you ask, tightly, and he nods.

“As well as can be. Yeah… I… shouldn’t have expected I’d be welcome here.” He breathes in, and then looks up at you. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “I just…” He looks down. “It didn’t feel… right. Leaving it on a bad note. With you.”

“…why do you feel that way?” you say; you attempt to be cool but it comes out wounded, and he looks at you, pain evident in every line on his face.

“Because I don’t feel like we’re _done_ ,” he says, and you close your eyes. Neither do you; you haven’t since you walked out of his apartment two weeks ago, but you don’t want to admit that. “I don’t know if it’s as friends, lovers, or what, but we’re not done. And I wanted to see if you felt the same.” He looks at you - that honest, diamond-blue gaze with no artifice or guile, and you close your eyes. “Tell me how you feel. We should talk about it.”

“I feel the same,” you say, hollowly. “But I can’t get back with you to do this again. Right now, I am fragile, Tom.” He nods. “I need some time to focus on me-”

“But can we be _friends_?” he asked, and you pause again. “We split up for a reason, okay.” _Several_ , you think, a little bitterly. “But maybe we can be friends. We can figure it out. As far as it goes, honey.”

You nod slowly, and he stands up, walking over to face you, and extends his hands; you take them, and he pulls you close, stroking your back. He doesn’t move to kiss you, and you appreciate that - you appreciate that a lot, actually.

“Okay. So we’re friends?” he asks, and you nod, lip wobbling. “Oh, don’t cry. Please, say something. (Y/N), please?” You exhale, and nod.

“Promise me. Promise me, you won’t…”

“I swear. We’re friends, for now. Until you feel… better, about this,” he says, gently, and you nod. “I’m sorry. I can take the flowers back… if you like.” You shake your head, and hug him tightly, and he holds you. “Okay. So… do you want me to stay? Do you wanna tell me about your project?”

“You don’t want to hear about that…”

“Sure I do. Friend.” He smiles at you, and you sit next to him, a smile touching your face even as a tear runs down your cheek. “C’mon. I’ll get you a drink, and we can go through this…”


End file.
